#tag your favourite one

[valeriapryanikova]

uhm. quick question. is ethogirl-ism contagious by any chance? asking for a friend

#anyways i was just messing around with art styles and potential etho designs :P #tag your favourite one #etho #ethoslab #hermitcraft #mcyt #fanart #eyestrain cw #body horror cw

[dangoulains-devotion]

#FF7 #FF7R #FF7 Rebirth #Final Fantasy VII #Final Fantasy VII Rebirth #aerith gainsborough #barret wallace #my favourite synergy ability... solely for the animation its so cute and cool #sorry papa wallace for i am 1) not good at drawing facial hair and 2) was not mentally strong enough to draw your gun #one day i will but today was not that day #i worked on this for 9 hours straight it got to a point i zoomed out and was like why doesnt this look right #and it was bc i forgot his tattoo....... he's naked iwthout that #also i've never tried to do comic-y explosions and text before so i kind of just looked at clip art for reference and then yolo'd it #i hope it doesnt look terrible i've decided i no longer care to fret over it #i need you to understand that if you were to zoom out the camera on this photo #barret is proper crouched down and aerith is standing on a pile of books #so that they could attain a pose where she is leaning on his shoulder #I FORGOT MY OWN ART TAG bro im so tired #my art #<- i am moonlight elegy on twt

[fleshdyke]

I saw a deer rotting away on the side of the road, ribcage gaping open, sternum shattered, sagging leathery skin shedding coarse hair as decomposition sets in. Eyes and entrails long since pecked out by crows and vultures, the doe lay blind and empty, her cranium chewed open and cleaned out by reverent coyotes. Crawling with maggots and worms, she writhes.

Wildflowers bloomed tall around her, cushioning her corpse in a bed of milkweed and aster, wild lily and strawberry bursting through her drying skin and out through the cavernous hole in her body. Wasps and horseflies drink the nectar flavoured by her body, dripping sweet onto her ribcage.

A violent death unto peaceful sleep, bones crushed like brittle eggshell by steel alloy, whiplash and internal hemorrhaging as she stumbles forward and collapses into the cold ditch by the asphalt, gasping and twitching as her lungs filled with blood, shards of her ribcage puncturing her lungs, struggling to take a full breath as spots grew larger in her vision. Twin headlights barreled on, uninterrupted and uncaring as she lay dying in the ditch, the taillights of the departing vehicle bathing her in red light as it leaves. There are no other cars in the road.

Scavengers bowed their heads to her memory as they filled their stomachs with her body, gorging themselves on cold offal, worshipful as they licked congealed blood off the ground. A necessary sacrifice to the good of the many; her agony sustains them. They don't know anything else. She sleeps, quiet and alone, in the ditch by the road, as she decomposes. Her eyes, plucked from their sockets by hungry birds to be fed to their hungry chicks, no longer saw; she slept in peaceful darkness.

I wondered what she dreamed about. I wondered if she could still see, in her mind's eye, the life she dreamed of. I wondered if all she could see anymore was the wriggling of maggots in her skull.

I wondered if the deer on the side of the road left behind a herd, maybe a fawn, waiting patiently, nestled in tall grasses, for its mother to return. I wondered if it, too, had fallen prey to the great metal maw of a passing vehicle as it, hungry and cold, searched for its mother. I hoped not, but I know better; deer don't often practice crèches.

I felt kinship with her, in a way, a deer left for dead next to the country highway, carved out empty and left gaping. I saw myself in her in the way she died alone, ignored, rotting from the inside out as cars passed by, the way she was vulnerable, defenseless; she had no way to defend herself against her fate. The scales were tipped against her, the battle lost as soon as she took her first step onto cracked asphalt, doomed beyond her own comprehension and her killer's capacity to care. She had no antlers to defend herself. She didn't stand a chance.

A faceless figure in a nondescript truck, anonymous in the atrocity of death, with no witnesses and no guilt for what they had done. Perhaps I'd already passed them on the street. Perhaps I'd already wished them a good morning. Perhaps I'd done the same with others.

It was almost comforting, in a way, to see such a visceral and grotesque representation of myself, flayed open snd hollowed out and left to rot. It reminded me there were others like me, even if they were roadkilled deer. In the aftermath of catastrophe, I, too, lay broken and gasping, immobile as I watched the world pass me by, no one stopping to notice my agony. I supposed it wasn't quite as obvious as that of a deer, trembling and bleeding from the mouth, branded hot in the shape of a car's front grill. It was confusing, still. It certainly felt more than obvious.

I dreamed of coyote teeth tearing me apart, pulling out my organs as I watched, passive, of vultures picking at my skin, grunting in veneration as they ate me to the bone. I dreamed of crows eating the scraps left behind, pecking at my face and mouth, pulling out my eyes and tongue, rendering me blind and mute. I didn't mind; I hardly had use for them anyways. I dreamed of dandelion blooms crowding my airways, airborne seeds filling my lungs until I choked, and growing from my body again.

I dreamed of love, of prostration and black birds bowed in supplication, owing me their lives, surviving at the price of mine. I dreamed of love, of sickly sweet devotion, like the smell of decay. I dreamed of love, of poisonous butterflies drinking down the nectar of my body's wildflowers, of dangerous beauty. In my dream, I watched the jays snap up those sweet butterflies, bright wings crunching and shredding within the predator's beak, only for the eaten nymph to reappear as its bitter poison burns the jay's oesophagus, vomiting up the offensive prey. The butterfly is not saved. The butterfly is still dead, half-digested and broken in a small puddle of the bird's mucous, but the jay learns; the butterfly's death prevents others.

I dreamed of love, like the coyote and the badger that found my corpse one night, forty million years of evolution between the two, but perfect teamwork nonetheless. The two arrived together and left together after they'd had their fill of my lungs and heart. I wished them well on their journey and waited for the next scavenger to find me.

I hoped the deer on the side of the road found the same peace in death as I had. I hoped she found her closure in the scavengers who worshipped her. I hoped the faceless figure in that nondescript truck faced their retribution and I hoped the faceless figure in my hazy memories faced the Old Testament judgement I so wished.

As I accepted the deer into myself, let the shape of her rotting body brand itself on my mind (reminiscent, almost, of the brand of a car's front grill on her flank), I felt her dreams assimilate with my own. I felt, suddenly, the desire to walk along country highways in the dark, the desire to know what waits on the other side of the road, the desperation so strong that I couldn't stand to wait for the rumbling beast to pass. I felt the awe of staring into blinding light, larger than me and near incomprehensible. I understood why deer stopped in the middle of the road. I'm sure anyone else would, too. The first contact of the car's front grill to her (my) body felt something like love, like the embrace of the only one who could stand to have me.

I thought about the crows that picked off the smaller pieces of flesh missed by the larger scavengers. I thought about the sweet adoration between two black birds as they passed my eyeball to their mate, the pure devotion between them as they preened one another, beaks coated in congealed blood. Their love is a living thing, a separate entity, powerful and writhing. It occupies the crows entirely, not unlike parasitism. Their chicks will grow from my scavenged flesh, insatiable, fledging for the first time above my drying skeleton. To fly had always been a dream of mine, and now it is actualized by those young black birds, fulfilled as they hop unsteadily from branch to branch, their parents watching over them protectively. How lucky I am to witness this. How lucky I am to learn, firsthand, the depth of that love, the endlessness of life, how it begins again, and again, and again.

#this is one of my favourite things ive ever written tbh. #made it for an english assignment. sarah if youre checking for plagiarism and it matches with this. this is my account you can ask me if you #want to. love u sarah. #anyways. hi everyone #rambles #my art #ask to tag

[hubba1892]

Jürgen Klopp - Best of 2023

#cw: flashing lights #this could have been so much longer #didn't want to choose one hug so didn't include them #but I think when he went and hugged everyone after the Newcaslte game might be one of my favourite gifsets of the year #anyway your manager could never #Jürgen Klopp #Jurgen Klopp #LFC #Liverpool FC #22/23 #23/24 #tempted to tag this as Ted Lasso #meins

[snow-lavender]

man i hope that tragic little minecraft queer doesn't die horribly

#mcyt #this is much more broadly applicable than it has any right to be #if you wanna put your favourite tragic cubito in tags go for it #that stuff's really interesting #dream smp #qsmp #trafficblr #third life #double life #limited life #area unknown #fable smp #pirates smp #empires smp #i'm sure more could be added but those are the ones im familiar with

[gilliverse]

BOB ODENKIRK as JIMMY MCGILL Better Call Saul Season 5 (2020) Costume design by JENNIFER BRYAN

#better call saul #bcs5 #jimmy mcgill #saul goodman #bcsedit #gifs #ours #by sahar #tvedit #tell us in the tags which one is your favourite :)

[the-casbah-way]

forgive the brief jesus chris superstar rant but. there is a very important difference between the pharisees being villains and the pharisees being antagonists. they're technically antagonists because they're actively working against the interests of our protagonist, but i don't believe they should ever be played as villains. they're not evil or bad or wrong. they're terrified just like literally everyone else in the show is, and their actions are completely justified. to me that's the entire point of the musical. it's not about christianity; it's about the impact the roman empire's brutal and violent imperialism had on everyone on all levels. including jesus and judas, but also including the pharisees, and even herod and pilate. when a powerful coloniser forces their presence on innocent people they are the only winners. everyone else suffers, even the puppet kings and high priests who look like they're reaping some sort of benefit from it all. that's roman propaganda. the romans kept native rulers like herod and caiaphas in power to maintain the illusion of provincial autonomy, and keep populations appeased and therefore under control. everyone in the show is acting out of fear of the romans. the one roman character we do see (pilate) is acting out of fear of his own emperor. it makes no sense to cast the pharisees as two dimensional Bad Guys, especially when the same productions that do that usually offer a sympathetic portrayal of pilate. it would be so easy to stage and direct a production in a way that makes it obvious that the pharisees are doing what they're doing because they truly have no choice, and not because they're pure evil and want to kill jesus for the sake of it. it's not only an antisemitic trope but also undermines a really important theme of the musical. if you can see the humanity in the violent roman governor installed forcefully on conquered land then you can afford some humanity for the pharisees too. they are victims of pilate and victims of rome just like everyone else

#THEY ARE NOT ALLIES OF PILATE. they have a common interest yes. ie avoiding punishment from rome #but the pharisees have no choice but to go to pilate. they have no real power. because like i said. they are puppet rulers #i am just tired of seeing the pharisees as villains #IF YOU WANT A VILLAIN (idk why you need to have one i don't think this show is about that) IT SHOULD BE FUCKING PILATE. AND NO ONE ELSE #THE PHARISEES ARE NOT VILLAINS. THEY ARE NOT EVIL. THEY ARE VICTIMS. #i am tired of seeing them costumed or directed in a way that makes them stereotypical Bad Guys #the 2k version of jcs is my favourite but i HATE how it portrays the pharisees at times especially annas #when annas pushes judas to the floor for literally no reason it's like. you are going out of your way to make these guys seem evil #sucks because the actor from 2k is the best annas i've ever seen in terms of presence and voice #and the actor who plays caiaphas in that film does a really good job at showing fear instead of pure anger and evil #but it's generally all still done in a way that makes the priests seem evil. in my opinion #and yes i called pilate violent. he's not in A Lot of productions but. the real pilate was an extremely brutal governor #and there's a very good reason for portraying him as such. especially when you consider the themes i mentioned here #jesus christ superstar #jcs #ask to tag

[mariana-oconnor]

Another year of being grateful that AO3 unwrapped does not exist, so I cannot be faced with the statistical analysis of my reading crimes.

#AO3 #fandom #Qd #On the one hand it would be fascinating to see how many words I read this year #and which tropes I read the most of #on the other hand I do not want that information to be available anywhere #“You spent 2000 hours on AO3 this year and your favourite tag was 'hurt/comfort'. Are you doing okay?” #Can you imagine? #The stuff of nightmares

[pidgeonprince]

#angel #ophanim #thrones #angelic #angelkin #angels #love these friends #tattoo design #if u reblog this lemme know in the tags which ones your favourite #my art

[damngoodbabysiitter]

gif request meme: Anonymous asked: Grimm + 8 - favourite romantic relationship

Monroe and Rosalee "Once I met you, you just lifted my spirits. You poured happiness back into my life. It has only gotten better ever since."

#grimmedit #monrosalee #grimm nbc #monroe x rosalee #monroe #rosalee calvert #grimm #my gifs #gif request meme #sorry this took me a while anon! I hadn't seen your ask originally #these are kind of annoying me because they didn't go to plan but I'm trying not to let it bother me to much lmao #but yeah I love these two so much?? one of my all time favourite ships ever ngl #my edit #forgot that tag oops

[hedgehog-moss]

You are my hero for using the phrase 'perfidious Albion' in your tags. What is the French obsession with Alexandrine meter?

:) Well it's just that for a very long time France considered the 12-syllable verse known as the alexandrine to be the pinnacle of versification. For your poetry or play to be considered high literature it had to be in alexandrines (I was recently reading an English jstor article about translations of Shakespeare in the early 19th century and it went “[French translator] prefers to translate in verse, which means, of course, in alexandrines.” Of course!) We've moved on now and they’re out of style, but we’re still secretly fond of them I think. We were held hostage by alexandrines for so long a lot of French people still have a Stockholm-syndrome preference for their specific flow over other kinds of poetic metre.

They left a strong legacy in our language too—a lot of French sayings / proverbs are alexandrine verses because they’re excerpts from classical theatre and poetry (e.g. “A vaincre sans péril on triomphe sans gloire” from Corneille; “La raison du plus fort est toujours la meilleure” from La Fontaine; “Qui veut voyager loin ménage sa monture” from Racine; “Chassez le naturel, il revient au galop” from Destouches, “Vingt fois sur le métier remettez votre ouvrage” from Boileau...)

The alexandrine had a long golden age, from the Classicists to the Parnassians (mid-17th to late 19th century)—the Romantics in between were advocating for a kind of “free verse” but it still meant alexandrines and pretty rigid ones at that! (Victor Hugo’s “J’ai disloqué ce grand niais d’alexandrin” was subversive—but it’s still an alexandrine.) Their verse was only considered rebellious because it ignored some of the many rules that went into a perfect classical alexandrine (e.g. no overflow, 4 rests per line, rhyme purity must be respected when it comes to mute consonants, no liaison between the last word of an alexandrine and the first word of the next, the hemistiches of two successive alexandrines mustn’t rhyme, no prepositions or other tool words at the end of a hemistich, etc. etc.)

Then in the 19th century we liberated ourselves from the tyranny of the alexandrine after Verlaine shot them dead (insert Rimbaud joke) by doing things like placing the caesura on the 3rd syllable of a 5-syllable word (“WTF”—Racine) or ending an alexandrine in the middle of a word and treating the first half of the truncated word like a legit rhyme, which made all the Classicists roll over in their grave.

I really like alexandrines personally! I admit they can sound plodding after a while especially with classical rhymes, but they have such a soothing flow. I also love that they are often French at its Frenchest. By which I mean, there are some gorgeous alexandrines that are genuinely the French language at its best and most graceful, and then you have those that can’t help but highlight how absurd our syntax can get.

My favourite types of alexandrines are the ones with a diaeresis in each hemistich because saying them normally feels like walking down the street, while saying them as an alexandrine feels like doing a figure skating routine (e.g. in Racine, “La nation chérie a violé sa foi”); the ones with an AB-BA structure (“Et le fuyant sans cesse incessamment le suit”), the ones with a ternary structure (“Je suis le ténébreux, le veuf, l’inconsolé”, “Je renonce à la Grèce, à Sparte, à ton empire”) and the ones where 1 word sprawls over an entire hemistich (“Voluptueusement dans cette paix profonde...”).

The worst alexandrines imo are the ones that force you to acknowledge how many tiny grammatical bricks are involved in the building of a French sentence. Orally we tend to squish them together so we can forget about them but the merciless alexandrine will demand that you mortify yourself pronouncing all of them, e.g. “O nuit, qu’est-ce que c’est que ces guerriers livides ?” (thank you Victor Hugo for this ignominy) (<- here’s an alexandrine), or “Si ce que je te dis ne se dit pas ainsi”... “Ce que je te (...) ne se” is a horrible succession of words by poetical standards but wait I’ve got worse!

Tu m’as pris mon trésor et t’étonnes tout bas De ce que je ne te le redemande pas

“De ce que je ne te le”—see? French at its Frenchest.

#ask #language tag #(french speakers tell me your favourite alexandrine if you have one!) #ce dernier couplet provient d'un livre sur la poésie de hugo qui m'a surtout marquée parce qu'à un moment #l'auteur consacre plusieurs pages à citer des vers dont le contenu terre à terre contraste ridiculement avec #la grandiloquence inévitable de l'alexandrin #et c'est vrai que certains sonnaient plus comme une réplique de trissotin qu'un vers de la légende des siècles #mais quand même t'écris un bouquin sur victor hugo et tu décides de passer 20 pages à lui mettre la honte

[dribs-and-drabbles]

The Thai Communal Wardrobe item #86

Be My Favourite ep 7:

Only Friends ep 6:

for @brazilian-whalien52 💙

#be my favorite #be my favorite the series #be my favourite #only friends the series #ofts #the thai communal wardrobe #a bl advent #I think this is the best I could find to fit your request #so I hope you like it! #even though it's not quite emo #but surprisingly I haven't found any shirts like the one you mentioned repeated in any shows #if I do I'll tag you in it though! #btw these eps aired 7 weeks apart

[conanssummerchild]

me and my dad are like abed and jeff in the way that jeff always gets abeds references, theyre two characters that mirror eachother, they understand and relate to eachother in a way thats different from other characters relationships, but also in the way jeff fantasises about strangling abed, "you try to get him to do something normal without abusing him!", "youre a robot, abed". and still jeff goes in for two hugs before abed leaves.

#been trying to work through my feelings about my relationship with my father lately in a healthy way #(through my favourite media) #its sad because if my dad wasnt such a self centred thinks hes smarter than everyone else rude passive agressive dick #maybe we could have the best relationship #because we are so painfully similar #we are literally just like jeff and abed #but i mean jeff said it in the third episode “i dont want to be your father” #my dad wants to help me about as much as jeff wants to help #and yet in the first episode jeff is the one to tell abed “you have aspergers” #and in e3 “abed is not normal” #like hes the first to acknowledge abeds autism he just doesnt care enough to help #and all the sarcastic robot jokes god #those are practically taken out of my fathers mouth #alex says shit #alex is an idiot #community #abed nadir #jeff winger #tagging in case i actually said smth that makes sense but if not take this with a grain of salt its fully me projecting #nbc community #also sorry for familial relationship-ising ur jabed not tryna turn this into jeffannie #just tryna get thru my daddy issues

[boysbeloving]

mile's triangle eyebrows for @toxicrevolver

bonus (with apo's thinass eyebrows 🙈🤣)

#i read your tags on one of the posts and i was like....this is my people #i hope you don't mind me making this for you we haven't even said hi to eo 🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈 #mile phakphum #mile phakphum romsaithong #mile's triangle eyebrows #triangle eyebrows my beloved #i love it when mile's eyebrows extend above and beyond his sunglasses IT IS MY MOST FAVOURITE! MY MAN'S SO THICK EVERYWHERE #kinnporsche #apo nattawin #apo nattawin wattanagitiphat

[tag-if]

How do the RO's act during the relationship stage? Like are they sweet? Playful? All that cute stuff. And what are their love languages? Just gonna throw in asks here and there for fun since this blog is just starting out. Excited for the demo btw!

Anyways, how are you doiiing? 😊

please do, i love sharing more about the characters with you all!!

to start with; i'm alright! just got home from my afternoon/evening lecture so i'm a little tired, but that's to be expected :)

now, for your answers; under the cut!

Love Languages; receive / give

A. Bellefleur; words of affirmation / gift giving

K. Valiev; quality time / physical affection

A. Caras; words of affirmation / quality time

T. Bellefleur; quality time / words of affirmation

M. Serrel; physical affection / acts of service

Relationship Stage;

A. Bellefleur; They love you so wholly it's almost scary. They look to you as if you're their whole world, they would raze kingdoms to the ground if you were to only say the word, and their loyalty is unmatched. Money is no object and you often find little trinkets (or jewellery, if that suits your taste) waiting when you return to your room, a sweet message or poem written on the gift box tag. Their communication is excellent and they are quick to put their diplomatic training into use, apologising and compromising where necessary until you are both content again after an argument.

K. Valiev; They love as if you will break apart under their touch. They are gentle, almost reverent, in every soft touch of their hand against your form. They are protective and steady, a constant calming presence for you to rely on whenever you need, a sturdy rock in a raging ocean. Even if you're busy, they'll take time out of their patrol to visit, snaking their arms arounf you and resting against your head whilst you work. They will struggle a bit if you ask for space after an argument, however will of course respect your wishes, likely going to cook your favourite dish for you, you can talk it out together over the excellently prepared meal.

A. Caras; They love with spontaneity. Their love is a surprise, a surprise hug, a gentle peck on your cheek when you least expect it, your favourite flowers laid neatly on the desk in your room (though if you look closely there is dirt on the stems and the ribbon is clumsily tied, matching mud staining their clothes when you next see them). Their day is busy, and you know that, yet somehow each time you come to check on them, they are somehow free enough to sit and chat (you once saw them push a stack of papers behind them as you walked in, but decided not to mention it). They are prickly after an argument, snapping if you speak to them too soon (though regret is the only thing behind their gaze), it's best to let them start the conversation. If you try to leave them be, a hand will dart out and gently grasp your wrist, keeping you close by.

T. Bellefleur; They love like you're the only two in the room. It was disconcerting at first, the intensity behind their gaze, the swirling mix of emotion that was so overpowering it became a void. Spending more time with them, however, gave you insight. They were a worrywart hidden by snark, their affection for you tinged with a healthy level of sarcasm (the heat behind it melting into softness). Their gruffness and grumbles turned into quiet murmuring at some point, random declarations of love or your beauty, spoken for your ears only (or into your shoulder, if you're cuddling). They are...cold after arguments, more like the royal you had first met, approach them gently but firmly, explain why you said what you said or did what you did (in this case, logic is your friend).

M. Serrel; They love like they kill. They are smooth, subtle, so much so that you barely notice. Until you do. Until you realise that your clothes are always clean and neatly put away, that your paperwork is stacked carefully on your desk, and then you can't un-notice it. They weave their way into your routine with a practiced adaptability, a seamless transition from separate to together (losing none of their usual suaveness and, quit honestly, heart racing flirting). They very rarely apologise after an argument, unless you express that the words themselves are important, but you notice that they never make that mistake again, and your usual chores are miraculously done by the time you get round to them.

#tag-if #the advisor's game #ro ask #asks #ro; a. bellefleur #ro; k. valiev #ro; a. caras #ro; t. bellefleur #ro; m. serrel #twine wip #loved answering this one #weirdly t. caused me the most trouble #how to describe t. other than rat bastard #a difficult task #please do let me know your favourites though #also their give love languages will obvs change if mc wants something else #just #that's what they default to

[dimpletheheck]

Some old traditional art or something idk

I drew these like last year, but I'm still pretty proud of how they turned out, so I may aswell post them

I may be cringe, but atleast I'm free. (I'm not lol plz help me)

#dimple speaks #my art #art #traditional art #dog therian #therian community #therian #therian art #saint bernard #st bernard #saint bernard therian #alterhuman #therianthropy #canine therian #alterhuman art #i have no idea how to tag this #fun fact: the second piece doesn't have eyes bcuz i suck at drawing animal faces #the first one is just me when i see my favourite person <3 #im cringe i know #but not as cringe as your mom- #the way i draw myself has changed so much in the last year tf